Thursday, November 5, 2015

Why do we buy luxury goods? Why do we prefer the Rolex to
the Timex? Both tell the time as well, though neither tells it as well as your
iPhone. When we flash the Rolex are we showing off our status or are we
allowing others to appreciate the aesthetics of the Rolex, the sensuous
delights it produces?

Those are two prominent theories of why we buy luxury goods.
One would say that the Armani suit is better made and better looking and better designed than is
the one that’s on sale at the Men’s Wearhouse and that people in some worlds
will notice the difference. The other will say that the suit designates your status, your place in society and your position on the social status hierarchy. As Paul Bloom points out in an extended essay on
the topic in the Boston Review, if everyone is wearing a good suit to the interview and you wear a sad
looking sack you are likely to be dismissed for not fitting in.

One notes that male and female dress codes differ
considerably. Male dress codes are based on uniforms. Every man’s suit looks
pretty much the same. The devil is in the details, in things that the
uneducated eye will not pick up on—most especially the cut. Of course fabric
matters enormously, but some fabrics look better to the eye while others need
to be touched.

In some worlds men signify their status by whether or not
their suit sleeves have real buttonholes—Tom Wolfe once wrote an essay about
it-- and one would like to say that a better cut suit has greater aesthetic
appeal. Since the look of the suit has something to do with the shape of the
body it adorns, we can qualify that by saying that many suits of clothing are
designed to enhance the body’s appearance.

And yet, given the rules of humility, men who wear bespoke
suits do not advertise it. Those in the know will know. Those who need not know
will not.

Female attire is more about fashion than about cut. It is
more about individuality than about conformity. A woman will be decidedly
discommoded if she goes to a party and discovers three other women wearing a
dress that is identical to hers. It is partly about the aesthetics, but it is
also about her ability to create an image that is uniquely her. No woman wants to
think that, to a man, she can easily be replaced by some other woman.

In the world of women’s fashion, aesthetics also denote status.
The more pleasing the outfit or the look, the higher her status. And the higher
her companion’s status. In traditional cultures, a woman’s expensive clothing
denotes the fact that some man loves her enough to buy her a lot of expensive clothing.
But, it also shows that some man is important enough to want her attire to
reflect on his success.

It is a question rarely addressed, but what changes when the
women has earned her own money and has purchased the Prada purse herself? Does
it still look and feel the same?

And yet, Bloom continues, we revere and venerate some objects
because of their history, because of their real and not apparent connection to
an individual or an event. We know that Kurt Cobain’s sweater is going to be
auctioned off for an absurd amount of money, and we understand that today’s
object touched by a celebrity functions in roughly the same way that a relic
did for some religions.

How better to show that celebrities are secular saints.
Bloom writes:

Celebrity
objects aren’t just a modern obsession. For centuries, Christians have revered
objects said to be the bones of saints or fragments of the True Cross. As
literary scholar Judith Pascoe has described, after Shakespeare’s death, fans
cut down the trees around his house for lumber they claimed was sourced for
their high-priced furniture. The trees surrounding Napoleon’s gravesite were
also pulled apart and pieces brought home as souvenirs. Napoleon’s penis
suffered a similar fate, reportedly removed by the priest who administered last
rites.

Napoleon’s penis notwithstanding, medieval Christians
believed that the relic of relics was the foreskin of Jesus. They launched a
crusade to the Holy Land to recover it.

Relics are not valued for their aesthetic appeal. They are
not valued because they designate status. In truth they are valued, Bloom
continues, because the possessor is signifying his membership in a community
through his attachment to real and unique objects from its history. Reality grounds people in a way that aesthetics and symbolism does not:

The
importance of history is clearest in cases of objects such as teddy bears and
JFK’s golf clubs because these are unique items with special stories behind
them. But it applies as well to kinds of
items. After all, a brand is a way of explicitly marking an object’s
distinctive history. The genius of marketing is crafting the story told about
that history. Perhaps the objects are made in a special place or in a special
way; they reflect family tradition; their production is a labor of love. They
are in short supply; they are the oldest; they are the newest. Sometimes, the
relevant aspect of history may be the connection to particular communities:
these objects—but not others that might look, feel, and smell just like
them—originate from a community to which one wishes to belong.

Aesthetics is about appearance. Status is about symbolism.
Neither comprises the point that Bloom wants to make, namely that by seeing or
possessing a relic, whether historical or religious, we are maintaining contact
with reality in a way that everyday blue jeans do not:

Rather,
the surfaces of things are significant largely because they reflect an object’s
deeper nature. This mode of thought might be a biological adaptation, since
what really matters—what is important to think about as you make your way
through the world—isn’t what things look like but what they really are. So
young children appreciate that a porcupine surgically modified to look like a
cactus is nonetheless still a porcupine; that a drawing of cat doesn’t have to
look like a cat; that two people might look identical, but one might be kind
and the other cruel.

For now it is certainly intriguing to think that if you
surgically modify X, to the point where it resembles Y, that most sentient
adults know that it is really not Y.

Despite what certain cultural warriors want us to believe, we
cannot change the nature of reality by seeing it or interpreting it differently. And we cannot change it by performing an operation. Thus, Bloom concludes, we are interested in surfaces because they offer access to the reality of objects.

He continues:

Our
beliefs about the hidden nature of things influence the most seemingly sensory
experiences, such as the taste of food and drink. Protein bars taste worse if
they are described as containing “soy protein,” ice cream tastes better when
labeled “high fat,” and cola is rated higher when drunk from a cup with a brand
logo. Neuroimaging studies reveal that areas of the brain associated with
pleasure are more active if you believe that you are drinking expensive wine.
Perhaps the most troubling finding was reported in a working paper called “Can
People Distinguish Pâté from Dog Food?” The answer is no: if you grind up a
product called Canned Turkey & Chicken Formula for Puppies/Active Dogs in a
food processor and garnish it with parsley, people cannot reliably distinguish
it from pork liver pâté.

He also wants us to consider that even if we buy things for
reasons of status or even aesthetics, our enjoyment might well surpass our
initial motivation:

And
then there is the psychological data suggesting that status might not be the
whole story. If I buy a watch to impress my friends, one can worry about the
cost of envy. But what if I buy it because it gives me pleasure? That one child
enjoys a teddy bear doesn’t seem to detract from his playmate’s enjoyment of
his own. That no one watches me eat mom’s cooking doesn’t make it taste any
less wonderful. Some goods, including luxury goods, are valued for properties
that have nothing to do with what other people think, so worries about arms
races just don’t apply.

But, what does it mean to say that real objects, especially luxury goods, have a
history and that when we purchase or enjoy them, we are taking their history
into account? Surely, this applies to religious relics or even celebrity tee
shirts, but it also applies to art.

I suspect that when we say that an object has a place in
history, we are saying that it has
a kind of permanence, that it is what it is regardless of how you interpret it
or look at it.

But then, if you change its history, which may have nothing
to do with its appearance, it will no longer be the object that it was.

In Bloom’s words:

Like
many luxury goods, art is not valued for its practical utility. And, like many
luxury goods, artworks get their meaning and value in light of their
histories—who created them, when they were made, and what the artist intended.
This is clearest for modern pieces: objects such as a urinal or an unmade bed
can be transformed into artwork if created and displayed in the right way. But
origins matter even for more traditional art. When The Supper at Emmaus was thought to have been painted by
Vermeer, it was priceless; when it was discovered to be the work of forger Han
van Meegeren, it became a relatively worthless curiosity. Its appearance didn’t
change, just its history, but people no longer wanted to look at it. If you
were to discover that your Rolex is an inexpensive duplicate, you would
experience the same effect.

Why does it matter? Why should we care about an object’s
history? And why do human beings care about objective realities? One reason
might be that they cannot easily survive in a world defined merely by aesthetic
appearances. They cannot do business when interpretation trumps facts or when
they act like they have their own facts.

And they cannot, as I have pointed out in another place,
connect with other human beings in society if they cannot stand on common
ground—meaning that when they are talking about the weather or the football
score or the painting on the wall, they are talking about the same thing.

Bloom is intimating that luxury goods, especially branded
goods, have a history. They have a reputation for quality as well as good
design. And they are recognized by other people. They inspire confidence and
suggest permanence. Fads come and go. Trends change, seemingly with the wind.
Rolex may not be forever, but it is one of the few almost-forevers that you can
wear on your wrist.

6 comments:

Adam Curtis explored the rise of modern consumerism in his program "The Century of self", and I found it interesting to look back to the 1920's and after and the utilitarian view of many people, and how mass production was reducing the cost of luxury products, but as well, could over produce demand, so marketers went to Freud and his nephew Edward Bernays for finding out how to generate desire of consumers, and make people feel insufficient if they didn't have the newest of everything.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Century_of_the_Selfhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJ3RzGoQC4s Century of Self

One of the fun stories from Bernays was how there was a taboo against women smoking, and he helped break the taboo by paying a group of women to smoke in public and call them "torches of freedom", as a symbol that women are no longer subservient to men.

Status is an interesting question, like recently Obama made fun of the Republican candidates for president for whining against the debate moderators, while pretending they could stand up to Putin. But it really wasn't a fair fight. A president has status in his office, while a candidate is just like an interviewee to a job, knowing there are 14 other people going after the same job. So whether they were whining, or boldly asserting their status to dictate debate formats is a matter of perspective.

On attire, I work for an engineering company, and its always been low-key, unless there are clients around, and as a computer programmer, statuswise, I'm perhaps on the bottom, but my value is utilitarian, I can get computers to do what people want them to do, so I don't have to show visual status. I don't dress up, or dressing up means wearing jeans and a polo shirt instead of shorts and a t-shirt. And status means I bring my bike into my office space, rather than leaving it locked up in the damp basement garage. Its hard to imagine wanting a higher status than this.

And perhaps my contrarian nature has always taught me to value what other people don't value. Why wait in line? Why pay premiums for a name brand? Why apply for a job that a dozen other people want, or compete for a trophy wife who 100 other men want? What a drag I say, but maybe I set my sights too low?

I remember mythologist Joseph Campbell saying the only thing he wanted and had to fight for was to get his wife to agree to marry him. That's probably why he could say "Follow your bliss", because almost everything he wanted was within reach, a life of accidental status to be exactly who he wanted to be.

Einstein was also a social rebel and got away with it because many people secretly admire those who refuse to conform. But it can also generate resentment as well.

And I wonder if we're again approaching a period where people of means will intentionally hide their affluence, and refuse to flaunt their wealth, like Tom Perkins fearing talk of the "1%" is generating a resentment against the top that could lead to a new holocaust of class warfare.

I also consider my own "freedom from conformity", to ignore cultural symbols of value, also represents a risk of resentment against me, and even if I'm somewhat insolated from risk. I suppose more my fears would be losing autonomy, if my utilitarian value is lost, because technology finally exceeds my skillset, OR if physical injury left me unable to care for myself.

I mean like Christopher Reeve, its all nice if you're rich and can pay people to care for you, but my financial means would disappear quickly under a chronic illness, and I'd better hope I gained some good will from family and friends to help me in my moments of need.

I just don't think having the right watch or car is going to help family and friends love be more. It's just not credible. I'll say being a man means having more than you need and giving away what you don't need and hoping that'll be enough.

It's a puzzlement. I have relatively good Van Gogh reproductions. Only a specialist would know the difference. Mine give me the pleasure of originals, but are worth zilch. The originals fetch 100's of millions. Sad to remember the tortured genius who created them sold one painting - to Theo.

I'm increasingly amazed these days as I run across more and more practices and "new" policies that who we really haven't left the Middle Ages. In regards to dress, the Middle Ages had sumptuary laws and even laws governing what different classes could eat.

"Nor is any modem legislature so unintelligent or so oppressive as to propose sumptuary laws; that is, to prescribe how expensively a man or woman must dress; but in the mediaeval times those were thought very important Every class in England was then required by law to have exactly so many coats, to spend so much money on their dress, so much on their wives' dress, and certain men could have fine doth and others coarse doth; everything was graded, even to the number of buttons on clothes, and they went so far even as to try in some early legislation to say what men should have to eat; the number of courses a man should have for his dinner were prescribed by law at one time in England, varying according to the man's rank. All such legislation has absolutely vanished and probably no one need know that it existed -- but that when efforts are made, as they sometimes are, by our more or less uneducated members of legislatures to introduce bills of such a kind, it is very im- portant for us to know that those experiments have been tried and have failed, having proved to be either imprac- ticable or oppressive or not for the general benefit. "--Popular Law-making: A Study of the Origin, History, and Present Tendencies of Law-making by Statute, Frederic Jesup Stimson (1910)

Of course, such laws do come around again as the "new idea" of some legislator. A bit less on the sumptuary laws, although we can see their ghost in the "fashion" especially for men, but not for the price fixing, such as minimum wage.

In a court of law, as in the study of history, an artifact such as physical goods, written letters, or other items introduced as "evidence" must be authenticated by a first person witness or an expert opinion. This means the facts of such things are always subject to question because the credibility of the witness is open to question.

Trademarks are enforced on the theory that this promotes the ability of the purchaser to determine the source or origin of goods and make a decision about the quality of goods. Fake goods abound and people are even willing to purchase good fakes when they know the difference.

According to William James the founder of the Religious Society of Friends, George Fox, was always being bullied and beaten by local power figures because he refused to tip his hat to them as a gesture of respect.

The irony of the leisure class or wealthy is that they live like children, having their needs and desires met by the working class plus purchasing power, yet they want to be admired like adults or benefactors to society, so the psychology is that of early infancy with the symbolism of role reversal. Better to have a government with 300 million tits, attempting to take care of all the "runts of the litter" than to live in a world where the fat suckling pigs look down on the "runts" for failing to secure access to the prime tit.

These days, a Timex generally keeps as good time as a Rolex, Patek Phillipe, or any other really high-priced watch. The status-conscious are not my people, and I am not theirs. We have a mutual ignoration society.